


Just Another

by sunsetmog



Series: Woke Up Married [1]
Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: Accidental Marriage, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Woke Up Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-07
Updated: 2011-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetmog/pseuds/sunsetmog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Woke-up-married fic.</p><p>Spencer wishes he remembered the actual <i>getting married</i> part of marrying Brendon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by elucreh. As always, any and all mistakes are down to me, however. Thank you to all the other people who've read this for me, and cheerleaded when necessary. Special thanks to jocondite, for all her advice. Title from the Pete Yorn song of the same name.
> 
> Originally posted [here](http://sunsetmog-fics.livejournal.com/45268.html) on 16th September 2009.

From the moment he opens his eyes, Spencer wants to be asleep again. His tongue feels like it's glued to the roof of his mouth and there's the dull throb of a headache pounding at the base of his skull. When he tries to roll over the pain in his head flares, heavy and red. His stomach hurts and he makes a noise in his throat, a tired and hungover groan. He's thankful that the bed stays solid beneath him as he moves, though; waking up drunk in a hotel room is about a thousand times better than waking up on the bus as it races down the highway.

He knows he should get up and get a glass of water, swill his mouth out and try to feel like a human again, but he can't bring himself to move and risk his headache flaring again.

Spencer settles for sliding slowly down the bed instead, pulling the blankets up and over his head.

Then his foot bumps against someone else's, and that can't be right.

Spencer doesn't normally share his bed with anyone, and he doesn't remember much about the previous night yet, but he's pretty sure he didn't bring anyone back to the room with him. He can't remember _exactly_ what it is he did last night, but he does remember hanging out with Brendon by the hotel pool before things get a little fuzzy in his head, and he's pretty sure it was just the two of them. He hadn't set out looking for a hook-up, he knows that.

 _Um_ , he thinks. He's not wearing a shirt, and when he checks, he's not wearing pajama pants either. _Fuck_. He wants to go back to sleep and wake up alone in his bed, wearing his pajamas, and not feeling like his head's about to explode every time he makes the slightest movement.

"Nrgh," someone says, from right beside him.

It sounds too much like Brendon for it to be anyone else. Spencer's tongue still feels like it's stuck to the roof of his mouth, but he tries. "You're in my bed," he manages, without opening his eyes.

"It's my bed," Brendon sounds as bad as Spencer feels. He kicks Spencer in the shin, but kind of carefully, like it hurts to move. "Go back to sleep."

-

The next time Spencer wakes up, he feels a little more human than before. He's seeing things a little more clearly and he can sit up and open his eyes without feeling like his skull is about to explode.

This time he doesn't miss the Polaroid camera on the nightstand, or the stack of pictures scattered by the lamp, the crumpled marriage certificate, or the fact he's wearing a wedding ring.

He barely makes it to the bathroom in time.

-

"Uh," Spencer says, when he finally makes it out. He's wrapped himself in a towel, but it still feels like all his junk is on show. He feels kind of shaky and sick, so he leans against the door frame for a little additional support. He thinks he can probably be sure that whatever they were drinking the night before was _green_.

Brendon's sitting on the edge of the bed— _their_ bed, Spencer thinks, with a pang of something that feels like _what the fuck_ —and he's pulled on a pair of jeans while Spencer's been throwing up in the bathroom. His shoulders are taut and tense, and he's looking through the stack of Polaroids, one picture after another, over and over.

He looks up, and Spencer thinks he looks kind of sick, too. The marriage certificate is smoothed out on his lap. He's fingering one corner of it.

"Yeah," Spencer says, awkwardly. He remembers parts of the previous evening after hanging out by the pool, momentary glimpses, flashes of color, a tight hug. Nothing that screams _I got married_ , but apparently that's his name and Brendon's on that certificate, right there in black and cream.

"You think this is real?" Brendon asks, without looking up. He rubs his palm against his knee. "You know, legal and everything?"

Spencer shrugs, and comes to sit down on the bed, a careful distance away from Brendon, too far away to accidentally touch. "Seems to be," he says. "It looks pretty legit. I don't really remember, though."

"Me neither," Brendon says, quickly. He nods awkwardly. "There's the name of the chapel, there. We could find the number. For the chapel. We could check."

"Yeah," Spencer says. This feels like some kind of weird dream. A weird, screwed up dream he wants to wake up from. He's not married. He'd _remember_.

The phone rings: an alarm to remind them they have a bus call in fifteen minutes.

"We have to get ready," Spencer says.

"Yeah," Brendon says.

Neither of them move.

"What are we going to do with this stuff?" Brendon asks.

Their _marriage_ , Spencer thinks, that's not _stuff_. His head feels _awful_. He groans, and tugs his suitcase closer; he hasn't unpacked anything, and he roots through until he finds an empty bag. He thinks it probably had toiletries in, back when they'd left LA. Not any more, though, and he holds the bag out between them.

It's easy to grab the camera and the pictures, to shove them into the bag like they're meaningless. It's less easy to watch Brendon carefully fold the certificate in two and slide it into the bag alongside. It's harder still for Spencer to slide off his wedding ring; he bites his lip and drops it into the bag. It falls easily, without making a sound. He holds the bag out for Brendon to do the same, but Brendon just shakes his head.

Brendon hides his ring into the front pocket of his jeans, and doesn't meet Spencer's eye.

"We'll deal with it later," Spencer says, trying to concentrate on his headache and not on the way his hands shake as he zips the bag shut.

"Sure," Brendon says, but he sounds funny, kind of choked. His voice rasps a little as he leans over, trying to find a t-shirt in his own bag.

"Yeah," Spencer says. "Yeah."

-

Spencer hides the bag in one of the spare bunks, the one where they usually leave all of their assorted crap and half empty duffels and suitcases.

He finds the Tylenol and shakes out some into his palm. He offers them to Brendon, and then he gulps down double the dosage with the remains of a bottle of water.

He passes out in his bunk and doesn't wake up until Zack bangs on the wall by his head and tells him to get the fuck out of bed and to sound check.

-

There's a party the last night they're on tour, and Spencer spends most of it hiding away in a booth by the bar, going over and over the same things he's been thinking about ever since he woke up last week in Brendon's bed.

It isn't like Spencer hasn't ever considered marriage. It's part of his life plan, in the same abstract way growing older is. If he thinks about _later_ , he thinks about having the same kind of marriage his parents have, the same kind of easy camaraderie and partnership that they share.

He feels like... by getting married like this, without really thinking it through, he's letting them down. Whenever his parents have called him this week, he's avoided answering his phone. Spencer's not sure, but he thinks Brendon has been doing the same with his family. They've both tried to pretend like everything's normal, but there's been a strange, off-balance shift in the way they move around each other, like two magnets placed pole to pole.

Spencer has tried and tried to remember more about that night, but he can't. It's all just flashes, moments, one tight hug, nothing concrete. He wants to ask Brendon what he remembers, but he feels sort of _shy_ around him, which is weird. It's almost as if starting to talk about it would make it real, like if they can continue to ignore it, they can pretend it never happened. Spencer wants to keep on pretending he hasn't screwed up. But this has been weird for long enough, and suddenly Spencer can't wait to get home. It's only been a few days but he's _over_ Brendon being weird around him. He wants that strange, unfamiliar feeling in his stomach to go away.

Spencer squares his shoulders and tries to enjoy the party. He goes to get himself another beer, and he's waiting by the bar when he sees the girl. She's talking to Brendon over by the dance floor, coming on to him pretty obviously. Normally Brendon would be laughing, and trying to flirt, and Spencer would roll his eyes—because Brendon is _lame_ when he tries to flirt, he always has been and he probably always will be - and then try and find his own girl for the evening.

But Brendon's being weird and it looks like he isn't trying to flirt back. Spencer thinks about how awkward he looks, leaning further and further back against the rail, darting glances towards Spencer in between shaking his head at whatever the girl is offering him.

Spencer's watches as Brendon ducks his head and makes his awkward apologies, and then he watches as Brendon deliberately doesn't meet Spencer's gaze as he heads over towards where Zack is hanging out with some of the guys from the tour.

Spencer's stomach twists, and he thinks, _fuck_.

-

When Spencer gets back to the bus, Brendon's flicking through a magazine in the lounge, not paying enough attention to stop at any page in particular.

Spencer bites his lip, and goes to sit down next to him. "Do you think maybe we should talk?"

Brendon makes a face, letting his magazine fall closed. He says, "Yeah, I guess."

Spencer sits down, and he says, "That girl, tonight -"

"I'm married," Brendon says, tiredly. "I'm married, and I can't cheat. It's wrong."

Spencer's holding on to his coffee cup. "It's not a proper marriage," he says, haltingly. "I mean, it can't be. It's me. And you."

"It's a marriage," Brendon says. "We made vows. I can't break them. Not while we're still married. Even if... even if it's me and you."

"Brendon -" Spencer wants to reach out and touch him, but he doesn't. He thinks about his parents' relationship, and how _that's_ a marriage. Not this. "It's not real."

Brendon looks at him. "It doesn't matter," he says. "We're married and even if it's not... not what we want. I can't break those vows."

Spencer swallows. "Brendon," he says again. "I -"

"I'm sorry," Brendon says. "I'm sorry, but it's real."

-

Spencer can't sleep. He keeps thinking about the bag he and Brendon stashed in the spare bunk, about their marriage certificate and the pictures and his ring. He's thought about the ring a lot, the past few days, and about what wearing it means. If he meets someone and marries them in a few years, he'll have to explain _this_ marriage and he doesn't know if he'll be able to find the words. Marriage should mean something, it shouldn't be something that can be just... _deleted_ , as if it had never existed. Failure is one thing, but not even _trying_... He's an adult and sometimes being an adult means taking responsibility for your actions, whatever that involves.

He still can't sleep.

Brendon isn't sleeping, either. Spencer hears him shuffling around in his bunk for a while, before he must give up trying to sleep, because Spencer hears him head into the back lounge with his guitar. Spencer hears the muted sounds of him playing the same song, over and over.

Brendon's his best friend, and it hurts. Spencer doesn't want this to ruin things between the two of them; Brendon means too much to him for that. Things have changed enough already, recently. It's not just that he's the only thing that Spencer has left, because that isn't true, but, all the same, the idea of screwing up their friendship is a terrible one. He sighs, and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing back the covers and padding awkwardly down the hallway to the back lounge.

He knocks, and Brendon's playing stumbles to an uncomfortable halt. Spencer leans against the doorjamb and tries to smile. "Look," he says, and he's conscious of how awkward he feels, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips, his t-shirt creased and dirty, his bare feet. "Brendon, I've been thinking."

"Me too," Brendon says, carefully laying his guitar down on the couch next to him. "Because I just wanted to say, like, that just because I don't want to break those, uh, vows while we're still married, it doesn't mean that you can't. I just wanted you to know that."

"Brendon," Spencer says, and he can't help feeling appalled at the idea of Brendon trapping himself inside a web of vows he can't even remember making, all while Spencer gets to do whatever the hell he pleases.

"No," Brendon goes on, interrupting Spencer's train of thought. "I believe one thing and you believe another, and that's okay. I'm not going to force my views on you or anything."

"Brendon," Spencer says, again. "I can't let you do that."

"You can't stop me," Brendon says. "Don't be an idiot."

"No," Spencer says, and his stomach twists, nerve endings tingling. "I mean. I'm not letting you do this alone. If you're in this, then I'm in it."

"What do you even fucking _mean_?" Brendon says, tiredly.

"I mean," Spencer says, softly. "I mean, if this thing is real for you, then it's real for me, too."

"Spence," Brendon says, haltingly.

"I mean it," Spencer says. "We got married. We got married and that means something. We should at least try. We should do this."

"Do what?"

"Be married," Spencer says, softly. "We should be married."

-

Being married doesn't feel any different to not being, not really. After talking to Brendon, Spencer had gone back to his bunk and fallen asleep, and Brendon had gone back to his and started to snore.

And now, even in the cold light of day, things still don't feel that different. It's the last day of tour, and there's packing up to be done, but Spencer's just sitting in his bunk, the bag on his lap, slowly unfolding the marriage certificate on the blanket next to him. It's crumpled at the edges, creased across the middle, and there are more Polaroid pictures than he remembers. He doesn't look at more than a couple of them, just bundling them together and putting them on top of the certificate. He finds what he's looking for at the bottom of the bag.

He slides the ring on, zips the bag shut, and stuffs it into his overflowing case.

When he goes into the lounge, Brendon's sitting by the TV.

"You okay?" Brendon asks, looking up.

Spencer swallows. "Yeah," he says, and he watches as Brendon fiddles with his own ring. "You?"

"Sure," Brendon says. "So, we're really doing this, then?"

"Yeah," Spencer says. He thinks about the vows he can't remember making. "We really are."

-

When they get back home, they both stand uselessly in the living room, their bags around their feet.

"Um," Brendon says. "We should maybe take this stuff upstairs."

"Later," Spencer says, quickly, thinking about Brendon's bedroom, and Spencer's bedroom, and how that now they're married things are probably going to have to change. That's a conversation he's pretty sure he'd like to avoid for a while. "I should, uh, go and get groceries."

"Groceries," Brendon says. "Uh, sure."

"Okay," Spencer says, and only feels a little desperate. "So, I'll go do that now."

"Right," Brendon says.

Spencer reaches for his car keys and bites his lip. "I'll see you later, then," he says, and before he has a chance to tell himself how stupid this is, he leans in and presses a kiss to Brendon's cheek. "Bye."

"Bye," Brendon says, awkwardly, from behind him.

-

When Spencer gets back to the house, their bags are still in the living room where they left them, but Brendon's nowhere to be seen. When Spencer calls his name, Brendon yells back from upstairs.

Spencer dumps the rest of the grocery bags on the kitchen floor and follows the sound of Brendon's voice.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asks, stepping over a pile of clothes on the floor in the upstairs hallway.

"Making room," Brendon says, but his voice is muffled. When Spencer looks through the door to Brendon's bedroom, Brendon has his head in the closet, and there are clothes all over the bed and the floor.

Spencer's mouth goes dry. "Uh," he says. The closet is half empty; half of the racks have been cleared, half of the drawers stand open and empty, and what is clearly half of Brendon's belongings are scattered all over the room.

"You should have room now," Brendon says, awkwardly. "For your stuff, you know. If you wanted to move in, or whatever."

"Uh," Spencer manages. "Thanks." And, "I brought take out. For dinner."

"Awesome," Brendon says, and the smile he throws at Spencer looks only partially forced.

-

They eat burritos on the couch in the living room, a conspicuous acre of space between them as they watch a lame nature documentary about giant squid and creatures of the deep.

"That's really cool," Spencer says, pointing at the screen. "You think that thing could beat a shark?"

"Sure," Brendon says, nodding. "If the shark had no teeth. What are you, an idiot?"

"Fuck you," Spencer says, gesticulating with the remains of his burrito. "Look at that thing. It's got to be, what, fucking _huge_. You're telling me a shark could take that thing down?"

"That thing has no fucking _teeth_ ," Brendon says. "A shark could take that _apart_."

"You're totally wrong," Spencer says. "Dumbass."

Brendon rolls his eyes. "You're the wrong one," he says. There's a pause, and then he leans over and awkwardly kisses Spencer's cheek. "Thanks," he says. "For dinner."

Spencer feels very warm, and very awkward, and very stupid. "That's okay," he says, lamely. "Thanks for cleaning out your closet."

"Well," Brendon says. "You needed somewhere to put your stuff."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "You want to go surfing in the morning?"

"Sure," Brendon says. "Should I call Shane?"

"Uh," Spencer says. "I was thinking. Maybe it should be just us. I mean."

"Yeah," Brendon echoes. "I guess. We are married now."

-

They watch TV late into the night, until way past the time Spencer wanted to be in bed. Brendon's looking exhausted too; this is their first night off tour, and everyone knows that that exists purely for sleeping. But they keep channel flipping, past old episodes of Project Runway, and America's Next Top Model, and infomercials and more shows about giant squid. They've tivo'd old episodes of Full House, but Spencer doesn't suggest that they start watching those. They're both capable of turning Full House viewing into a marathon.

"I need to sleep," Spencer says, eventually, when his legs feel so heavy he can barely work up the energy to stand up.

"Oh," Brendon says, jumping up, "uh, me too."

They share the bathroom awkwardly, brushing their teeth and trying to avoid each other's faces in the mirror. Spencer has to go into his (old) room to find a pair of pajama pants, and when he comes back into Brendon's (their) room, Brendon's already in bed, the covers pulled up over his hips.

"Do you, like," Brendon says, "uh, do you have a side? Because you could have this one. If you wanted."

"No," Spencer says quickly. This isn't even the first time they've shared a bed. Everything feels so strange. There's an odd feeling in his belly, an awkwardness he can't put his finger on. He's _married_. "This one's fine."

"Good," Brendon says. "I got you a glass of water."

"Good," Spencer echoes, and he pulls back the covers so that he can climb in.

"I'm, uh, pretty tired," Brendon says, and Spencer feels the same way. His bones ache, he's so tired. He wants to sleep for a hundred years.

"Yeah," Spencer says. "You want to get the light?"

The lamp clicks off, and they lay next to each other in the dark, a gap between them down the center of the mattress. Spencer blinks in the darkness, and suddenly feels very, very awake.

"Spence?" Brendon asks, after a minute.

"Yeah?" Spencer rolls on to his side, closer to Brendon.

"Thanks," Brendon says. "You didn't have to do this, so. Uh, thanks."

"We're married," Spencer says. "You and me, we're married. You're my best friend." He thinks about Ryan a little, and Jon, and something hurts, deep in his chest. He misses the way things were, sometimes, even if things are working out much better for them all this way. He reaches over and touches at Brendon's elbow.

Brendon makes a soft sound in his throat and rolls over so that he's facing Spencer. "Me too," he says. "I mean. You're my best friend too."

"So," Spencer says. "We can do this, right? We can make this work."

"Sure we can," Brendon says.

Spencer thinks about being married, and about his parents, and their marriage and what it means. He thinks about what being married clearly means to Brendon. "Hey," he says, softly. He can barely see Brendon, shadowed in the darkness. He leans in and makes a clumsy move towards Brendon's mouth. He catches him in a kiss, soft and sleepy and unfamiliar. Brendon makes a garbled sound and then his hands are in Spencer's hair, just for a moment, just long enough for it to be real. "We can make it work," he says, softly. He can feel Brendon's breath against his cheek.

"Yeah," Brendon says, equally quietly.

Spencer isn't sure when he falls asleep.

-

He wakes up when Brendon gets up, but only enough to groan and roll over. It takes him a while to wake up for real, to be able to open his eyes and not feel like dying of exhaustion. He reaches for his phone to check the time; it's three thirty in the afternoon, and he can smell coffee.

"So much for surfing this morning," Spencer says from the kitchen doorway, rubbing his eyes. There's a cup on the counter next to the coffee machine; Spencer reaches over to the jug and pours himself some. He offers more to Brendon, but Brendon just shakes his head and moves his mug closer to his chest.

"There's always this evening," Brendon says. "If you wanted."

"Sure," Spencer says. "Or now. You want to go now?"

Brendon's grin is infectious.

-

The beach is pretty busy, and they have to search for a space to park up. They finally find one, down by the end where it's a little quieter. Their boards are strapped to the top of the car, and Spencer unties them while Brendon shucks off his flip-flops and his t-shirt, tugging up his wet suit.

"Hurry up," Brendon says, "come on, Spence, valuable surfing time."

"Shut up," Spencer says, and he can't help but grin. He's _missed_ this. His wet suit is maybe a little harder to zip up than before he went on tour; it's probably all that fast food and chips. He kicks off his flip-flops and throws them into the trunk. "You ready?"

"You bet your ass," Brendon says, and bounces up and down on the balls of his feet.

They stay out for ages, paddling on their boards when they're too lazy to go chase after the waves. The surf is pretty lame today anyway, which is maybe kind of good for Spencer, since he's so out of practice. Brendon is just as fearless as always, and he bobs up and down on the waves like he hasn't just spent weeks on the road, away from all of this.

"I'm gonna burn," Spencer says, lazily, sitting up on his board.

"Me too," Brendon says, and he's grinning so hard that Spencer feels the pull of something warm in his belly. He thinks of the kiss the previous night, and how comfortable it had felt, how easy. He thinks about kissing him again, just to see if it feels the same now, in daylight.

Brendon's already paddling for another wave.

-

They hang out for a while longer, and then they flop down onto the sand with their wet suits peeled down to their waists, their boards next to them.

"Fuck," Brendon says, "yes."

"I know," Spencer says, "right?"

" _Exactly_ ," Brendon agrees, and lays back on the sand, hands behind his head. "This was a good idea," he says, after a while.

"Yeah." Spencer shrugs his shoulders. He's still sitting up, his arms around his knees. "You want to go get dinner after this?"

"You mean, uh, go out?"

"Sure," Spencer says. He shrugs again. "Let's go home, get showered, and go out and get something to eat." _Like a married couple_ , he thinks.

"You got anywhere in mind?" Brendon asks.

"What do you feel like?" Spencer asks, deliberately easily. It's a nice day, warm without being too hot, and the breeze off the ocean means his shoulders are already dry.

"Let's go someplace nice," Brendon says, noncommittally. "Maybe that sushi place up the coast. You think we can get a table?"

"We can try," Spencer says. "We'll call them up when we've finished here."

-

They get a last minute cancellation, and it means that they have to rush home to shower in order to make sure that they get there in time. Spencer has no idea what to wear; all of his tour clothes are still in bags in the living room, and it's been so long since he looked in his closet that he can barely remember what he owns, let alone remember what's clean.

He ends up in a black button down that's a little too big for him and a pair of slacks he barely remembers buying, let alone ever wearing. He thinks about a tie—it's a really nice place—but he doesn't want to seem overdressed compared to Brendon.

When he goes out into the hallway, though—his clothes are still in his old room, because he hasn't had time to move them yet—Brendon's wearing a shirt and tie, and he's fiddling with his jacket. Spencer ducks back inside his room and grabs his tie.

"You ready?" Brendon asks, not turning around. He's picking up his wallet and his phone and stuffing them into his pockets.

Spencer thinks, _yes_. "Sure," he says. "Come on, we don't want to be late."

The sushi place is kind of a long way away, and for once traffic is moving pretty easily for an evening in L.A., so they get there with a few minutes to spare. They hang around by the car and stare out at the ocean, and Spencer thinks again about the kiss they shared the previous evening.

He clears his throat, awkwardly, and holds out his hand. "We should go in," he says, and waits.

Brendon bites his lip and nods. He's staring at Spencer's hand, but not moving.

Spencer closes the distance and reaches for Brendon's hand. "Come on," he says, and Brendon nods, tangling his fingers with Spencer's. His hand is warm, and Spencer holds on tighter as they walk down the sidewalk towards the restaurant.

Brendon catches his eye and smiles, tentatively.

Spencer smiles back.

-

"That was kind of awesome," Brendon says, as they pull in to the driveway at home.

Spencer's tingling all over, breathless and warm. The food had been amazing, and he'd held hands with Brendon the whole time they'd been waiting for their starters to be served. Later, when they'd been waiting for their ice cream and then their coffee, Brendon had ducked his head and reached across the table again, touching Spencer's hand with his fingertips.

"It was," Spencer says, and he watches as Brendon lets the engine dwindle away to nothing. "So," he says. Brendon's hand is still resting on the edge of his seat, and he stares out of the windshield as Spencer covers his hand with his own.

"Yeah," Brendon says, without looking at him. He shifts though, enough that he can hold Spencer's hand again.

Spencer ducks his head.

"I had a really nice evening," Brendon says, after a moment, "out with you."

Spencer bites his lip. "Yeah," he says. "Me too."

"You want to, maybe -" Brendon stops, and Spencer's breath catches in his throat. "Uh—we could grab a beer, or something. Sit out in the yard."

"Yeah," Spencer says. "That'd be cool."

They sit out by the edge of the pool, and drink Coors Lite until they run out, and then they move on to the Corona.

"Do you, uh," Spencer trails off. "Do you remember much? About that night?"

Brendon shrugs, and concentrates on peeling the label off the bottle in his hand. "Not much," he says. "Parts of it, maybe. I remember the bar, but not much after. You?"

Spencer looks down at the ground. "No," he says. "I remember us hanging out at the pool, and then it's pretty much a blank."

"Yeah," Brendon nods, and then he elbows Spencer in the side. "You want to play Mario Kart?"

"Sure," Spencer says, and tries not to think about how he missed out on his own wedding.

-

They lie in bed with the lights off, both on their backs and staring up at the ceiling.

"Spence?" Brendon asks, after a couple of minutes. The covers shift as he moves, and Spencer's aware of Brendon's proximity now in a way he never was before they were married. It feels strange, but not necessarily bad. Sort of like... Brendon's in his head in a way he never has been before.

Spencer rolls over. "Yeah?"

"Do you ever wish that you could remember?" Brendon sounds a little nervous, and Spencer hates that, so he shifts closer, his knees bumping against Brendon's in the dark.

Spencer doesn't ask _what_. "Yeah," he says, softly.

"Me too," Brendon says. He sounds sad.

Spencer cups Brendon's face with his hand, leaning in and kissing him. It lasts a little longer than the one they shared the previous night, but it's still just as sweet and chaste. Brendon strokes his fingers through Spencer's hair and makes a sound in his throat as Spencer pulls away.

They fall asleep like that, lying close together, Spencer's knee nudging Brendon's.

-

"You got anything you need to do?" Spencer asks, a couple of days later.

"Nope," Brendon says, shaking his head. "Zippo. Zilch. Nothing."

Spencer grins. "Surfing?"

"Surfing," Brendon agrees. "Let's hit the beach."

They drive further up the coast this time, away from the busier places. They pick up food along the way, huge sandwiches and snacks and a six-pack of coke. They leave them in the cooler and stand by their car, unstrapping the boards and changing into their wet suits.

Spencer finds himself shooting Brendon sidelong glances as they change; he watches as Brendon bends over, pulling his wet suit on over his bare feet, up and over his ankles and his knees and his swim shorts. He's aware of Brendon now in a way he never was before, and it's weird and it's new and it's kind of amazing. He likes the way it makes him feel.

When he looks again, he catches Brendon watching him, instead. He darts his gaze away quickly, his cheeks warm, and concentrates on zipping himself up.

-

They surf for a while, Brendon whooping whenever he catches a wave, Spencer laughing whenever he doesn't make it and wipes out. Brendon just grins, tipping his head back and shaking the water out of his eyes, brushing his hair off his forehead with one hand.

Spencer sits on his board and bites back a smile.

"You hungry?" Brendon asks after Spencer catches a particularly cool wave and rides it most of the way toward the beach.

Spencer grins and pushes his hair off his face. "Sure," he says. "After you tell me how awesome me riding that wave just was."

"The awesomest," Brendon says, seriously. "Spence, you're the most awesome guy I know."

"Cool," Spencer says, and he holds out his hand for a high five.

-

They eat the sandwiches on a blanket on the beach, Spencer digging his toes into the sand. Brendon makes stupid faces and eats with his mouth open and steals the tomato off Spencer's sandwich; Spencer retaliates by getting sand in Brendon's chips and poking him in the ankle with his toes.

"Get off," Brendon says, kicking him. He gets sand in the remains of Spencer's sandwich and Spencer rolls his eyes and drops it down on the sand next to him. He was pretty much finished with it anyway, but he doesn't tell Brendon that. Instead, he just jabs him in the side and pushes him over.

"You dick," Spencer says, and Brendon kicks back. Spencer rolls him over, pinning him to the blanket. "You got sand in my food."

"Yeah, yeah," Brendon says, rolling his eyes. "Whatever."

"Yeah, well," Spencer says, and trails off, awkwardly. His knees are either side of Brendon's thighs, and the way he's leaning over him, well. He's kind of close to Brendon's face.

Brendon bites his lip, and Spencer swallows. He sits back on his heels, and tries not to think about the strange, new feeling in his belly.

"Hey," Brendon says, kind of weirdly. He's propped himself up on his elbows, and his cheeks are pink.

"Brendon, I, uh -"

Brendon sits up, leans in and kisses him.

It's a moment before Spencer kisses him back, before he slides a hand around Brendon's neck and lets his fingers curl into Brendon's hair, before Brendon's mouth opens beneath his, tasting like salt water and coke and turkey on rye.

Spencer sits back on his heels and bites his lip.

Brendon, his eyes narrowed against the sun, runs his hand up and down Spencer's bare arm. Spencer's skin tingles, and he watches kind of helplessly as Brendon continues to touch him, his thumb rubbing against the pale underside of Spencer's wrist.

"Spencer," Brendon says, finally.

"Yeah?"

"I just -" he stops, and closes his fingers around Spencer's wrist. "I'm just. Thanks," he says, softly. "For doing this."

"I married you," Spencer says, equally quietly. All around them is the sound of the ocean, of people shouting across at each other, kids yelling. Their blanket feels like a pocket of quiet and Spencer doesn't want to move. "I married you," he says again, "and I'm in this because I want to be."

Brendon shifts a little, letting go of Spencer's wrist so he can twine his fingers with Spencer's. "Yeah," he says, and they sit there a while longer without saying anything.  
Spencer's been cleaning out the closet in what used to be his room, dumping some of his older stuff that he never wears, making piles of the stuff he needs to move down the hall. He's almost done, but he's tired and Brendon's already gone to bed, so he leaves the last few drawers for the morning, and heads down the hallway to Brendon's room.

He undresses quickly, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. Brendon's asleep on his side, and Spencer tries to be quiet so as not to wake him. He brushes his teeth and climbs into bed, kneeling up so he can lean over to Brendon's nightstand and switch off the lamp.

Brendon's breathing is soft and even, his eyelids fluttering a little. Spencer watches him for a moment, the scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose, the soft curve of his mouth. He thinks about how things have changed, and the kisses they've been sharing late at night, and that other kiss, the one at the beach earlier on.

He can't help it; he ducks his head and touches his mouth to Brendon's, his thumb brushing Brendon's cheek. "Good night," he says, softly, and leans over to get the lamp.

"Spence?" Brendon asks, sleepily, as Spencer settles down, pulling up the covers.

"I thought you were asleep," Spencer says, determinedly. He's pretty sure that there isn't anything wrong with kissing Brendon goodnight, but it's all so new—the way he feels is so new—that he just isn't sure what's weird and what isn't anymore.

"Kind of," Brendon says.

There's quiet for a moment, and then Brendon shifts, awkwardly moving so he can throw an arm across Spencer's chest.

"You kissed me," Brendon says.

"Uh," Spencer manages. Brendon is stroking his hand down Spencer's side, over his shirt, and Spencer can't concentrate on anything but Brendon's nearness, and the steady movement of his fingertips. "I guess."

"I was asleep," Brendon goes on, and Spencer feels kind of stupid. "I was asleep, and I missed it," Brendon says, "so I think you should do it again. So I don't miss it this time."

Spencer thinks, _what_? But Brendon's already closing the distance between them, kissing him quickly and ducking back, his hand resting just beneath Spencer's ribs. Spencer's breath catches and he's pretty sure that he's just made an embarrassing noise, but he can't help himself, because it's Brendon. He wants to kiss _Brendon_.

"Brendon," he says, wide-eyed. He's glad that it's dark, and that Brendon can't see the stupid face he's making. He reaches for him, cupping Brendon's face in his hand, shifting so that he's closer. There's silence except for the rustle of the sheets and their breathing; Spencer can feel Brendon's sleepy breath against his mouth in the second before he leans in and kisses him.

It's sweet, and Brendon tastes sleep-soft and warm. But that's where the similarity between this and their earlier kisses ends, because this time there's nothing chaste about it.

Spencer's hands are in Brendon's hair, cupping his jaw, fingertips stroking his neck. Brendon kisses him back enthusiastically, mouth opening beneath his, his tongue sliding along Spencer's. They're making out, Brendon eagerly pressing up against him, and it's all Spencer can do to keep himself from groaning out loud.

They kiss for a few minutes, warm, sleepy kisses that Spencer arches up into, wanting more. Brendon's touching him everywhere, down his arms, across his chest, palms flat in the hollow of Spencer's back. It feels kind of—it feels amazing.

Brendon breaks away, kissing across Spencer's cheek, the pale, freckled skin under his eye. "I'm in this too," he says, in between kisses.

"Brendon," Spencer says, and he's breathless and hot and he still isn't used to the way something skips in his belly at the thought of making out with Brendon. He strokes at Brendon's neck, mouthing at the underside of his jaw as Brendon's head tips back against the pillows.

Brendon's response is to kiss him again, to roll closer so that his leg is pressed up against Spencer's, so that his fingertips are catching at the hem of Spencer's t-shirt.

"Are we doing this?" Spencer asks, and he can't help it, he doesn't mean to, but his voice catches a little. He's getting hard, and it's not like he doesn't want to be, it isn't like kissing Brendon isn't seriously fucking _hot_ , it's just—it's weird. It's new. He's hard for Brendon.

"Unless you don't want to," Brendon says, carefully. He's not stroking Spencer's shirt anymore; he's lying still and taut against Spencer's side.

Spencer swallows, and shifts a little so he can look Brendon in the eye. "I don't want to fuck anything up," he admits, because he's suddenly very aware that what he has with Brendon might well be up there with the most important things in his life. He's ashamed to admit that he's scared.

Brendon sighs, and nods. "Okay," he says, and he rolls away a little.

Spencer tips his head back again the pillow. He doesn't _not_ want to be making out with Brendon. He's still hard; that's a pretty good indicator he's still in this. But—he doesn't want to fuck anything up by going too quickly, by rushing anything. All of this is so new, and he's barely aware of what it is he's feeling, and he's not even sure he can put a name to the warm, fuzzy feeling in his belly whenever Brendon's close.

"I'm pretty tired," Brendon says.

Spencer nods, but he's not sure Brendon can even see him. He swallows. "I think -" he starts. He trails off. "Can I kiss you again?" he asks.

"Are we, uh, going anywhere with this tonight?" Brendon asks. The careful edge to his voice hasn't gone away.

Spencer shrugs. "Not tonight," he says. He feels stupid. He feels like an idiot. "I just. I want to kiss you, okay? Can we just do that?"

"Okay," Brendon says. He swallows, and laughs, awkwardly. Spencer hears when it catches in Brendon's throat.

He feels like an _idiot_.

"Here," Brendon says, and he tugs Spencer a little nearer, the sheets rustling against his skin as he shifts. Brendon smells warm and there's still the hint of salt in the air around them, even though they've both showered since coming back from the beach earlier. Brendon closes the distance between the two of them with a soft kiss to the corner of Spencer's mouth.

Spencer sighs, and he's glad the lights are off, because that part—his stupid reaction to Brendon's closeness—is embarrassing. He kisses Brendon slowly, and they trade off on kisses, the mood a little different to earlier, chaste again whereas earlier there might have been the promise of more.

"There," Brendon says, softly, after a minute. His thumb rubs at Spencer's collarbone through his shirt. "Better?"

"Better," Spencer agrees. He kisses Brendon again, once more, twice, a third time.

Brendon smiles against Spencer's mouth, and Spencer can't help but smile back. This—trading kisses—feels so easy, with none of the anxiety Spencer was feeling a few minutes earlier.

"I normally, uh, sleep naked," Brendon says, after a couple of minutes of sharing lazy, sleepy kisses.

Yeah, Spencer knows. He's been trying not to think about that, the past couple of nights. Brendon's been coming to bed dressed just like Spencer, in pajama pants and a t-shirt, and it isn't like Spencer doesn't know how unlike Brendon that is. "So?" he says. He thinks about Brendon naked, and feels that new, twisty feeling in his belly again. His cock seems to like the idea, too.

"So," Brendon says. "I was kind of hoping you wouldn't mind, you know. If I, uh, ditched the PJs."

"Uh," Spencer says. "Cool, yeah."

"Good," Brendon says, and he clambers over Spencer, tumbling out of bed and tugging his t-shirt over his head. It's dark, so Spencer can't really see, but he can imagine what Brendon looks like without his top on, just like he does at the beach, all freckled skin and the promise of muscle definition if the light hits him right. Spencer props himself up on his elbows and feels over-dressed.

"I, um, sometimes sleep naked too," Spencer finds himself saying, even though it's not _exactly_ true. The only times he sleeps naked are when he falls asleep after sex, which isn't exactly the case tonight, but whatever.

Brendon freezes, just for a moment, his fingers caught in the waistband of his pants, illuminated in a slither of moonlight through the gap in the curtains. "Yeah?" Brendon manages, and Spencer's pretty sure he sounds kind of breathless.

"Yeah," Spencer says. He doesn't want the temptation of being naked in bed with Brendon tonight, but he wants the alternative even less, so he finds himself sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling his shirt over his head, kicking off his pants and rolling back under the covers without looking at Brendon.

Brendon climbs back into his side of the bed, and they spend a moment pulling up the covers and not saying anything.

Spencer swallows, licking his lips. He's intensely aware that he's naked, and that _Brendon's_ naked beside him.

Brendon sighs, loudly and stupidly, and then he—very decisively—rolls over and wraps an arm around Spencer's chest. He's hot to the touch and Spencer's skin tingles at the contact. There's some very careful distance between their hips.

Spencer's mouth is dry.

"Okay?" Brendon asks. He's resting his head against Spencer's shoulder.

Spencer nods, shifting a little so that he's touching Brendon's side with the tips of his fingers. He is. "Yeah," he says, and he moves, enough that he can find Brendon's mouth with his own. Brendon kisses him back, just as gently. "Night," he says.

-

Spencer wakes up wrapped around Brendon. At some point in the night they've shifted from lying side by side to spooning, and Spencer's pressed up against Brendon's back. His hand is flat against Brendon's stomach, low enough that he can feel the rough tickle of hair beneath his palm.

He knows Brendon's still asleep because Brendon's breathing is soft and easy and regular, his chest rising and falling gently. Spencer doesn't want to wake him up, so he stays still, suddenly too aware of how much he needs to move. He freezes, trying to stay still.

The covers are pushed down to their waists and they must have forgotten to turn the air conditioning on the previous night, because the room is sticky-hot and stifling. Spencer concentrates on three things: how much he needs to move, the way his cock is getting hard and the way Brendon's skin feels beneath his palm. He gives in and ducks his face into the curve of Brendon's neck and presses a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Brendon's starting to wake up, Spencer can feel the shift in his breathing and the way he moves a little, sleepily pressing back against Spencer's half-hard cock.

He knows the exact moment Brendon realizes where he is and who he's with.

Brendon freezes, muscles taut.

Spencer has a fleeting momentary panic when he considers the possibility that Brendon maybe doesn't want this, but then Brendon wriggles a little, smiling as he relaxes.

"Morning," Spencer says, softly. He strokes his palm up and across Brendon's stomach, up past his ribs, his sternum, coming up to thumb at his jaw. Brendon relaxes a little more, twisting so that he can meet Spencer's gaze.

Brendon licks his lips. "Morning," he says, and he sounds croaky and half-asleep.

Spencer keeps touching at Brendon's face with his fingertips. There's uneven stubble beneath his palm, freckles across Brendon's nose and cheekbones in broad contrast with his pale, sleep-sweet skin. Spencer leans in and kisses the corner of Brendon's mouth.

Brendon's breath is kind of sour and sleepy, but Spencer doesn't stop. He shifts, moving a little so that he can cup Brendon's face and nudge at his mouth. "Hey," he says, and kisses him again, mouth pressed to Brendon's.

Brendon wraps an arm around Spencer's back, his fingers sliding down into the hollow of his spine. "This is kind of a neat way to wake up," he says, in between closed-mouth kisses, and Spencer makes an agreeing noise as he rolls Brendon closer, hooking his ankle over Brendon's to keep him close. Spencer knows that Brendon's hard; he can't help but sneak glances, over and over again. "But you know what would be neater?" Brendon goes on, opening his mouth a little and sliding his tongue along Spencer's.

"What?" Spencer shivers.

"If you were to touch me," Brendon says, and he pulls back so that Spencer can see him lick his lips.

"I am touching you," Spencer points out, without thinking, stroking at Brendon's cheek with his thumb.

"Not _there_ ," Brendon says, very carefully. He glances down between them. "There."

 _Oh_ , Spencer thinks, and feels stupid.

Brendon covers Spencer's hand with his own. "We're in this together," he says, and Spencer waits a moment before nodding. It isn't like he doesn't want to do this; he really, really does. If he's honest with himself, he's overwhelmed by just _how_ much.

Spencer tilts a little so he can rest his forehead against Brendon's. "I wish I remembered," Spencer says, too quietly.

Brendon presses a kiss to Spencer's mouth. "Me too," he says.

"I never figured I'd miss out on my own wedding," Spencer says. He tugs Brendon closer, and Brendon moves easily, tangling his fingers with Spencer's. "Do you think it was okay?"

Brendon nods. "We looked pretty happy in the pictures," he says.

Spencer shrugs. "We looked pretty drunk."

"Still," Brendon says. "The parts I remember, uh. I was pretty happy, I think. We looked like we were having a good time. I'd like to think I was happy when I got married."

"Yeah," Spencer says. He waits a moment, then nudges at Brendon's mouth with his own. "Happy when I'm with you," he says, quickly, and then he kisses Brendon again before Brendon can see his face and laugh. Spencer means every word, and his face feels warm.

Brendon doesn't laugh, though; he just deepens the kiss, and there's nothing chaste about it anymore. Spencer groans as Brendon licks into his mouth, hands in his hair, and Spencer can't help it; he lets go.

Kissing Brendon is hot and sexy and Spencer feels _different_. He's been with people before, of course he has, but something about this feels exciting and so unlike anything else he's done before. _He_ feels sexy. Brendon's touching him all over, sliding his hands down Spencer's arms, across his stomach, in the small of his back. Spencer's skin feels like it's on fire, and he arches up into Brendon's kisses, dragging his palm down Brendon's chest, one hand in Brendon's hair. Brendon's skin is burning hot, sweat slick and pin-prick sensitive. When Spencer closes his fist around Brendon's cock, he groans against Brendon's mouth, _oh fuck_.

He never expected it to feel like this.

Brendon breaks the kiss, throwing his head back against the pillows as Spencer jerks him off. Spencer can't stop staring. Brendon's cock is shorter than his own, shorter and broader and heavier. He keeps seeing the tip of Brendon's cock, peeking out from his fist, slick and red. He runs his thumb across the head, groaning as Brendon cries out, tugging him closer with his other hand.

They keep kissing, over and over until there's nothing careful in the way they're touching each other anymore. Brendon drags his hand down to where Spencer's jacking him off. There's a moment where he closes his fist around Spencer's, and then he lets go and reaches for Spencer's cock. Spencer can barely breathe, his forehead pressed against Brendon's shoulder, his breath coming thick and fast as Brendon starts to jerk him off. He tries to keep still, but he can't, and his hips keep pressing up. He wants to set the rhythm and it doesn't seem like Brendon's that averse to letting him. He's fucking Brendon's fist.

"Fuck," Brendon manages, before he's shifting awkwardly so he can press his mouth to Spencer's. They kiss again, loudly and messily, Spencer distracted by the way Brendon's breath hitches and his hips twist, the way his cock is a heavy, hot weight against his palm. "Fuck," he says again, "Spence, _Spence_."

"Yeah," Spencer echoes. His wrist is tired and the room is too hot; they should never have started this without making sure the air conditioning was on. His hand slides across Brendon's skin, sweat-hot and sticky. Brendon arches up.

"So glad," Brendon says, all of a sudden, and he grabs Spencer by the shoulder, pulling him close so that Spencer can't escape Brendon's eyes. "I'm glad it's you," he says, fiercely. "I wanted it to be you."

Spencer's head spins. The tip of Brendon's cock drags across Spencer's thigh. He'd never, ever imagined that it would be like this between the two of them, that _Brendon_ could make him feel like this. "Married you, didn't I?" he manages. He barely knows what he means.

"Yeah," Brendon says, but he's red-faced and breathing heavily, his throat bared. Spencer can't help himself, he kisses Brendon's neck, biting the salt-sweaty skin in the curve of his shoulder. "Spencer, _fuck_ ," Brendon manages, his hand tightening around Spencer's cock.

Spencer makes a sound he barely recognizes. He's going to come, right there with Brendon's hand around his cock. "Brendon, I -" he starts, but he can't think, and it's all too much. He's not so much teetering on the brink as half way down the other side. Brendon's hand tightens around him again, and he can't hold himself back. He gasps out a breath and starts to come, hard. It hits Brendon's thigh, and stomach, and Spencer's hand around Brendon's cock.

Maybe that's all Brendon needs to tip him over the edge, because it's hardly a moment before Brendon's coming too.

Spencer's vision whites out, and it's probably a couple of minutes before he zones back in and remembers where he is. He's sprawled across the sheets, one arm across Brendon's chest, his face pressed against Brendon's shoulder.

Brendon looks like he's asleep, eyes closed, his skin flushed. Spencer leans forward, kissing his cheek.

"Hey," Brendon says, lazily. He runs a finger down Spencer's chest. " _Hey_."

Spencer smiles and ducks his head, his cheeks suddenly warm.

Brendon just laughs, sleepily, and tucks his face into Spencer's neck.

-

"Was that your phone that buzzed?" Spencer asks, coming in to the living room with two glasses of coke and a big bag of pita chips. He still feels buoyed up from the morning, something thrumming just beneath his skin, something real and intense. He keeps sneaking glances at Brendon, only to find Brendon sneaking glances right back. He's spent most of the day so far biting his lip to keep him from smiling too much.

"I don't know," Brendon says. "I guess. Maybe."

"Don't you want to see who it is?" Spencer asks, nudging some magazines out of the way and putting their cokes down on the coffee table. It occurs to him that he hasn't exactly been in contact with anyone since they returned from tour, either. _Oh_ , he thinks, and swallows.

When he sits down, Brendon's looking a little guilty and pink-cheeked.

"You think we should talk about this?" Spencer asks, awkwardly. "This whole, we're married and not telling anyone thing?"

"Oh," Brendon says, "that."

"Yeah," Spencer feels uncomfortable. It wasn't as if he hadn't noticed that they hadn't spoken to anyone since getting back, but he hadn't realized up until now that they were doing it on _purpose_. His stomach feels kind of weird. "Are we -" he trails off, because he doesn't know how exactly to phrase this. "Are we ashamed of this? Is that it?"

"No -" Brendon says, too quickly.

Spencer's heart hurts. "Are you sure about that?" he manages, and tries not to think about all the kisses they've shared. That isn't something he ever wants to be ashamed of. Being married isn't something he wants to be ashamed of. _Brendon_ isn't someone he wants to be ashamed of. He's in this because he wants to be. Because he made a choice that maybe he doesn't remember making, but he isn't backing away from.

"Spence -" Brendon starts, and he makes a stilted movement that looks to Spencer as if Brendon were reaching for his hand. Brendon jerks his hand back and starts picking at the seam of his shorts. "I just. I wanted to give us more time, that's all. To make sure."

"Brendon," Spencer says, and there's a heavy weight in his chest. "B, you were there earlier, right? I told you. I'm in this."

"You haven't exactly been telling people either," Brendon points out, under his breath. Brendon gets pissy when he feels cornered.

"No," Spencer says. "I know. But, um. I was thinking, maybe we could. You know. Tell people." He hasn't been thinking that at all. Right from the moment that he stuffed the photos and the marriage certificate in his bag, he's been thinking about his mom and his dad, and how they're going to react to the news. It's a reaction he's been willing to put off, and he's pretty sure that Brendon's been feeling the same way too. This isn't Brendon's fault, and it isn't like Spencer's been taking anyone's calls, either.

Brendon bites his lip. "Yeah?" he says.

Spencer studies Brendon's face, looking for some kind of hint that Brendon feels the same way Spencer does. For once, though, he can't read Brendon's expression. "We've got to tell them sometime," he says.

"Right," Brendon says. "Yeah. You got any idea how we're going to phrase that to my mom and dad? Hi guys, got fucked up and married a dude, can't remember the ceremony?"

Spencer can read _that_ expression. He remembers it from back when they were at school, when Brendon and his parents were fighting all the time and Brendon started looking fierce and closed-off. He reaches for Brendon's hand, and squeezes, and tries to say the right thing. "How about, we just tell them we got married, and it was a spur of the moment thing, and we're sorry we didn't tell them sooner?"

Brendon's expression softens a little, and Spencer sighs and tugs him closer. Brendon settles against Spencer's side, resting his head on Spencer's shoulder. "You know that's not going to cut it, right? They're going to be pissed."

"My mom and dad too," Spencer says. "Well, my mom. I'm pretty sure my dad's just going to be focusing on the part where I married a guy."

"I'm pretty sure that's _all_ my parents are going to be focusing on," Brendon says, morosely.

"Maybe we should leave out the part about how we got fucked up first," Spencer says, trying to lighten the mood a little. There isn't anything he can say about Brendon's parents; they are great people and they love Brendon a lot, but they are who they are, and Brendon's right. Spencer's pretty sure that gay marriage isn't something that Brendon's parents have spent any considerable period of time trying to reconcile with their beliefs.

"And the part where my wedding ring came from a Super Walmart," Brendon says. He tips his head back against the couch with a groan. "Fuck. You ever tried arguing gay marriage rights with Mormons?"

Spencer sighs, and kicks off his flip-flops so he can lie down on the couch and tug Brendon down next to him. "No," he says, and he strokes Brendon's hair away from his forehead and thinks about kissing him. It's weird; he meters out his touches to Brendon like there's some kind of limit, and he's riding close to it. He's incredibly aware of every brush of skin. "Your parents are good people, B," he says, and he hopes it's true, "and they're going to see we're happy. They'll see we're going to make this work." He looks down at his wedding ring, a narrow band of dull gold. "A Super Walmart? Really?"

Brendon buries his nose in Spencer's shirt, and Spencer tries not to think about that being really cute, but he can't. He's predisposed to think everything Brendon does today is attractive, he thinks, and blames the part where he shot his load all over Brendon's stomach earlier.

"Did you even look at our wedding pictures?" Brendon says, scrunching his fingers in Spencer's shirt and looking up, rolling his eyes.

 _Uh_ , Spencer thinks. "Some of them?" He'd tried not to look, because he had always, always hated not remembering stuff, and forgetting his own wedding might come top of the list of things in his life he's ashamed of. He'd confined his looking to just a couple of shots—one of the two of them outside the wedding chapel, Spencer kissing Brendon's cheek, and another of the two of them with their wedding rings on, hands out to the camera.

Brendon rolls his eyes again. "Well, you must have missed the one where we posed by the register in Walmart, then. Two matching wedding rings, and a receipt for twenty four dollars and a whole fifty cents."

"Wow," Spencer says, simultaneously appalled and delighted. "Really?"

"Yeah," Brendon says, kissing the underside of Spencer's jaw easily, "I think you seduced me with generosity."

Spencer huffs a laugh, and thinks about the two of them, lying sprawled together on the couch in their house together. They're _married_. Spencer can't help but think over the way things have changed between the two of them in the last few days. About how that feeling in his stomach is still there, the heat in his belly that flares and coils whenever Brendon's around. It's a good feeling. It's been a good change.

"We should go see our parents," Brendon says, after a while . "Tell them."

"Yeah," Spencer agrees, but he doesn't make any move to stand up. He shifts a little so he's more comfortable, so Brendon's lying with his back against the couch, so that Spencer can nudge Brendon's chin up and meet his mouth in a kiss.

-

They fly up to Las Vegas so they can do it all in one day. On the plane, Brendon's leg jiggles up and down a lot, nervously. Spencer thinks again how good an idea it was to take a flight that left so early it still sort of counted as the middle of the night, so that it's easy for Spencer to pull a blanket up and over the two of them. Brendon squeezes his hand, gratefully, and neither of them talk about what it is they're going to tell their parents.

At the airport, they get a rental each, and stand awkwardly at the entrance to the parking lot, both clutching their rental keys. Spencer's not sure how he's supposed to say goodbye.

He swallows a couple of times and shrugs. "Do you know what you're going to say?" he asks, nudging his head in the direction of their cars. He thinks about his parents, and how surprised they'd been when Spencer had called them up the day before to say that he was flying in. He doesn't know how he's going to tell them that he's married, and that he's married to a guy, and how the guy is _Brendon_. They're going to freak, but he's convinced that Brendon's parents are going to be worse.

"Sure," Brendon says. Spencer thinks he's lying, until Brendon starts speaking again, slowly and kind of practiced. "I married you in Massachusetts because I couldn't marry you here," he says, and Spencer's startled by the way his stomach jumps at that, at the insinuation he's not sure he's wrong he's reading into what Brendon's saying, that he wants to read into what Brendon's saying, that Brendon wanted to marry him. That it hadn't just been a mistake they were left dealing with afterward. "I got caught up in the romance of it all," he goes on, and Spencer can't help the sudden movement he makes, his hand reaching out toward Brendon. "We eloped," Brendon says, without looking at Spencer, "We eloped and we want you to be happy for us." He fidgets, biting his lip and darting looks across the parking lot. "How's that?"

"Good," Spencer says. His throat feels raw, and kind of shaky. "That's, uh. That's really good."

"Yeah," Brendon says, and he stands there a moment longer, awkwardly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Spencer doesn't know what to say. "You think it'll be okay?" he asks, and he's thinking more of his own parents and sisters, rather than Brendon's, of how they'll react when he tells them.

Brendon shrugs his shoulders. "I think I'll still be married to you, even if it isn't."

There's a fleeting moment where Spencer thinks, _I'm so glad it's you_ , before he pushes the thought away and leans over to pull Brendon into a hug. Brendon folds into him gratefully, wrapping his arms around Spencer's neck and holding on tight. "I'll call you later," he says, into the collar of Brendon's shirt, and then he's kissing Brendon quickly and heading across the parking lot to find the bay his rental's parked up in.

-

His mom tugs him into a hug, kissing his cheek and straightening his collar and taking his bag, all at the same time.

"Mom," Spencer protests, because cursory protests are what he makes whenever he gets home and his mom acts like she hasn't seen him in a thousand years.

"I'm your _mom_ ," she says, kissing his cheek again. "I'm allowed to miss you."

Spencer thinks about his marriage, and feels really fucking bad. "Mom," he starts, but then his dad comes in and claps him on the back and he doesn't have a fucking clue how he's supposed to wipe the smiles off their faces and tell them they've missed his wedding. He settles for, "How are Jackie and Crystal?"

"Too far away, that's what," his mom says, and she's pushing Spencer into the kitchen and down into a chair by the table. They've just started college, and Spencer's had a couple of emails from each of them, describing their first few days. It's weird that they're doing something he has no experience of, and that they're doing it _apart_. "I'm making breakfast, do you want eggs?"

"Sure," Spencer says, and twists his ring on his finger. He tucks his hand under his thigh, and feels guilty. He wonders how Brendon is getting along, and remembers holding Brendon's hand on the flight. He misses the reassurance of having Brendon there. It isn't as if he hasn't spent the last few years with Brendon, but something's changed in the past couple of weeks and Spencer really likes the way that feels. He shifts a little so that he can feel his ring again.

Brendon calls when Spencer's half way through his pancakes and eggs. Spencer sees Brendon's name flash up on his phone and he knows that his mom always says no cellphones at the table, but he ignores her rule in favor of shifting in his seat so that he's facing toward the door before answering. His breath feels tight in his chest.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asks urgently, shifting a little further in his seat.

"Hi," Brendon says, brightly, and Spencer's nonplussed for a moment, frowning down at his phone. "So, how's the traffic, are you still caught up?"

"Uh," Spencer manages. "What?"

"Oh, really?" Brendon goes on, as if Spencer hadn't spoken. "That's really annoying. Mom's just wondering how long to hold breakfast for, that's all."

"You want me to come over?" Spencer asks, confused. He plays with the eggs on his plate, pushing them from one side to the other with his fork.

"Yeah," Brendon says, with a quick sigh of relief. "Please."

"Okay," Spencer says. There's a beat, and he risks a glance towards his mom and dad. He drops his voice, but not enough that his parents won't be able to hear. "Have you told them?" he asks.

"Uh," Brendon says. "Maybe, kind of?"

It doesn't help. Spencer waits a moment, to see if Brendon says anything else, but he doesn't. Spencer can just hear Brendon's quick, nervous breathing. "Okay," Spencer says, finally, when it's clear Brendon isn't going to say anything else. "I'll be right over."

"Good," Brendon says, with a loud sigh. "That traffic, huh?"

"Yeah," Spencer says. "I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?" Brendon's already hung up.

When he turns around his mom is watching him. "Spencer?" she says.

Spencer shakes his head. "I've got to go," he says, already up and out of his seat. He hasn't finished his breakfast.

"What was all that about?" she asks, standing up after him. His dad is standing up too.

"Uh," Spencer says. "Nothing. I'll be back later."

"Spencer -" his mom steps in front of the door. "Is something wrong? You fly back here at no notice, you turn up first thing in the morning, and then you're out of the door before you've even finished your breakfast. Is it Ryan? Has something happened?"

"Ryan?" Spencer shakes his head. He and Ryan—well. Nominally they're still friends, but they haven't seen that much of each other recently. He's been on tour. Ryan hasn't. Things are bound to be weird for a while. For the first time in their lives, they're doing things without the other, and it takes some getting used to. Their birthdays are coming up, though, and they'd been messaging each other about getting together and hanging out, all four of them.

"Well, then, not Ryan. Then _who_?"

Spencer shakes his head again. He keeps replaying Brendon's voice in his head, over and over. He'd sounded bright and breezy and totally desperate, and Spencer wasn't about to stand here when he could be over there, with Brendon. "I need to go, Mom. I'll be back later, and then we can talk -"

He reaches for his jacket, but his mom grabs his wrist before he can get to it. "Spencer," she says, roughly, and Spencer looks down.

Fear shivers down his spine as he realizes she's staring at his hand.

"Mom -" he says, weakly.

"You're _married_ ," she says, hoarsely. "That's a wedding ring."

Spencer tries to pull his hand away, to hide it, to hide his ring.

"Spencer," his dad says, from behind him, and Spencer feels trapped. "What's going on?"

Spencer swallows. His mouth is dry, and his tongue feels like it's stuck to the roof of his mouth. "I was going to tell you," he says. "That's why I flew up. Me and Brendon, that's why we flew up."

"Brendon?" his mom says, blankly. "What does it have to do with _Brendon_?"

This isn't how he planned this. He's screwed up. "I got married in Massachusetts," he says, and he takes a deep breath, "because we couldn't get married here." He's stealing Brendon's line and he feels bad he couldn't come up with something better himself.

He can tell his mom and dad still don't get it. They're staring at him without understanding.

"I married Brendon, Mom," he says, when he can't think of anything else to say. "Brendon and me, we got married. For real."

-

When he gets to Brendon's house, Brendon's hovering by the front door, and as soon as Spencer pulls up in his rental, Brendon ducks out of the door and down the driveway.

"Hi," Spencer says, but Brendon's already barreling into him and hugging him, hard.

"Sorry," Brendon says, voice muffled against Spencer's shirt.

Spencer's stomach feels jumpy and floaty and weird. All of this is so new, and so unexpected, it's taking Spencer a while to get his head around what it is he's feeling for Brendon. He shakes his head. "Doing this alone was stupid," he says, and he wraps his hand around Brendon's neck and strokes at the nape, unable to help the way his heart leaps as Brendon presses closer. "We should have told them together."

Brendon nods. "You okay?" he asks, pulling away and shooting a sidelong glance up at the house. Spencer thinks he can see movement behind one of the windows.

Spencer shrugs, trying to drag his attention away from what's happening inside Brendon's house, and concentrating instead on Brendon. He thumbs at Brendon's cheek. "Yeah," he says, and doesn't think about his parents. "Because I'm still married to you, aren't I?"

He's amazed by how Brendon reacts; after all, Brendon had essentially said the same thing to him, earlier. Brendon's cheeks pink and he ducks his gaze, and there's a moment where he looks down at the ground before he surges forward and kisses the corner of Spencer's mouth. "Want to be married to you," he says, and his eyes are bright.

There's a rushing in Spencer's ears, and it's like he can't actually speak. "Brendon," he manages, but Brendon just bites at his lip and tugs at Spencer's hand.

"Come on," Brendon says. "My mom's made breakfast."

Spencer doesn't think he can eat a bite. He doesn't move, saying, "Brendon. Your parents. Have you, uh. Do they know?"

Brendon rolls his shoulders uncomfortably. "Yeah," he says. "I told them."

"Okay," Spencer says, and he's not ashamed to admit he's scared.

-

"Mom, Dad," Brendon says, as they get inside, "Spencer's here."

Brendon's mom is waiting by the stairs, and she looks tired and pale. "Spencer," she says. "We hear congratulations are in order."

Spencer's throat is as dry as he can ever remember it being. Next to him, he can feel Brendon thrumming, nervous and anticipatory. "Yes," he says. "Thank you, Mrs. Urie."

There's a long, painful silence.

"We were waiting for you before we could have breakfast," Brendon says, after it's horribly clear that no one is going to say anything.

"Thank you," Spencer says, and, "I'm sorry I was held up."

Next to him, Brendon's fingers jitter, and Spencer is reminded again of how Brendon's proximity is now something that he's constantly aware of. He bumps his elbow against Brendon's, and Brendon lets out a sigh and moves just that little bit closer so that their arms are brushing. Spencer swallows.

"Well," Brendon's mom says. "You're here now. We should eat. "

-

Breakfast is painfully awkward. Spencer isn't hungry. He hadn't been hungry when his mom had given him pancakes and eggs an hour ago, and he was even less hungry now that he'd left his mom and dad pale and upset in order to drive over here and support Brendon. Across the table from him, Brendon pushes his breakfast around his plate, and Brendon's parents aren't really eating either.

"You, uh, know that this isn't something that the church will bless," Brendon's dad says, after a while. He looks apologetic, though, and Spencer is thankful again that he knows how much Brendon's parents love him, even after all the choices Brendon has made that they don't understand.

Brendon waits a moment before nodding. "I know," he says. "But, Dad. I don't want their blessing. I just, um." He squares his shoulders. "I want yours."

Brendon's mom makes a sound in her throat like she's swallowed a cough. "Brendon," she says, and there's a long pause while she clears her throat and takes a sip of water. "This isn't something we understand," she says, and Spencer watches as Brendon flinches. He wants to reach across the table and touch him, but the atmosphere is tense and it's enough that he finds Brendon's ankle under the table with his own. Brendon presses his toes down against Spencer's foot. Brendon's mom colors as she speaks, "Men should lie with women, Brendon. That's what I understand."

Brendon looks like he wants to cry, and Spencer feels kind of the same. This wedding, their accidental marriage, it has a hundred consequences he wishes he didn't have to anticipate and acknowledge.

"Mom," Brendon says, and there's a tightness to his voice, a waver that Brendon's only just keeping under control. "I married Spencer. I want you to give us your blessing, even if you wanted something different for me. I'm sorry -" he hiccups, ducking his head for a moment. He waits a moment before looking up again, and this time his eyes are bright. "I want your blessing, Mom. Spencer and I want your blessing." There's a long moment before Brendon speaks again. "Please," he says.

Spencer thinks he could go the whole rest of his life without ever hearing Brendon beg for his parents' acceptance again. Spencer clenches his fist in his lap, and waits.

"We're proud of you," Brendon's dad says, awkwardly. "Please don't think that we aren't. But this is going to take time, Brendon. It's so _alien_ to us, what you've done."

"How much time?" Brendon asks, fiercely.

Spencer can see the way Brendon's gripping the table edge, and his heart aches. "Brendon," he says, softly. Brendon doesn't look at him, but he nudges Spencer's foot with his toes again, pressing closer. Their knees brush.

"Brendon," Brendon's mom echoes. She makes an abortive gesture with her hand, reaching out to Brendon. She curls her hands in her lap. "This isn't going to change anything. You're still going to be our son. That's never going to change."

"I don't want that to change," Brendon says. "I'm not _asking_ for that to change. I just want you to accept this. Accept my husband."

Brendon's mom makes a choked noise and Brendon stands up and leaves the table.

Spencer freezes for a moment. _Husband_ , he thinks, wildly. It's a word he hasn't used much, and never in this context. _Husband_ , he thinks again, and awkwardly excuses himself so he can go after Brendon.

-

He finds Brendon standing by the mantel in the living room.

Brendon doesn't turn around as Spencer comes over, and he doesn't relax as Spencer stands next to him, his elbow bumping Brendon's. Everything is quiet and weirdly still; Spencer can't hear anything other than the tick of the clock on the wall. But Brendon's whole body is thrumming, and the atmosphere in the room is tight and uncomfortable.

The mantel is full of pictures of Brendon's family; there are wedding pictures and baby pictures and even one of Brendon with Ryan and Jon and Spencer. Brendon touches his finger to the frame of Mason's wedding picture, and he doesn't look at Spencer when Spencer leans over and places his hand around Brendon's wrist.

"Brendon," Spencer says, softly. He's not sure what to say; there's nothing he can say to make this better. Brendon's family isn't one that has ever had to accept a marriage like this before, and Spencer's not exactly sure they've ever had to deal with the reality of a son whose somewhat hypothetical bisexuality had just tipped firmly over onto the homosexual side of the scale.

"It doesn't matter," Brendon says, quickly. "It's okay. They'll come around, right? I should have known, I should never have expected -" he trails off, and Spencer's startled by the hollow, desperate breath Brendon has to take to stop himself from crying.

Spencer steps closer, and wraps his arms around Brendon's shoulders. "Hey," he says, because he can't think of anything else to say. He strokes at Brendon's hair with his fingers, and waits while Brendon takes a deep, shuddered breath and folds limply against him, face buried in the curve of Spencer's shoulder. "It'll be okay," Spencer says. And, without thinking, "You've still got me."

Brendon presses closer, and Spencer closes his eyes. He doesn't want to think about his own parents, trying to come to terms with this without Spencer even being there. He feels terrible.

"You've got me, too," Brendon says, but his voice is muffled against Spencer's shirt. It feels a little odd, the way Brendon hums against his skin. Spencer shivers a little, and wraps his arms tighter around Brendon's shoulders.

Spencer's not sure how long they stand there like that, but he thinks it's probably a couple of minutes before they're interrupted by a cough from the doorway.

"Do you two, uh, have wedding pictures?" Brendon's dad asks, awkwardly, waving his hand toward the mantel behind them.

"Uh," Brendon says. He's awkwardly immobile, pressed close to Spencer's side, clearly uncomfortable but equally unwilling to let go of Spencer. His closeness—and his unwillingness to let go in front of his dad—make Spencer feel warm inside, and he flattens his palm into the small of Brendon's back. Brendon presses back a little, just enough to reassure Spencer he's okay.

Spencer doesn't know what to say. Their wedding pictures are a collection of increasingly drunk Polaroids, and even Spencer hasn't looked at them all. He doesn't think that, _no, we were wasted_ is something that would help here.

"Shane's going to take some for us," Brendon lies. Spencer starts compiling a mental list of all their friends, and what order they're going to tell them in. "We could send you a copy. I mean, if you wanted."

For a second, something like exhaustion shows on Brendon's dad's face. "Brendon -" he says, and then he stops, squaring his shoulders and taking a breath. "Of course we want a copy," he says.

"But will you put it on the mantel?" Brendon asks. "Will you put it here with the others?"

"Brendon," his dad says. "Please. Give us some time to get used to the idea."

Brendon nods jerkily. "Right," he says, and Spencer thinks that he can feel the tension stretching across Brendon's spine with his every breath. "Sure."

"We're pleased that you're happy," Brendon's dad says, awkwardly. "You've got to believe that, Brendon."

Brendon nods again. "Yeah," he says. His hands tighten around Spencer's waist, and Spencer feels terribly, terribly sad. "I do."

-

Spencer's parents are frostily polite, which Spencer guesses is an improvement from just plain frosty. Brendon is quiet and awkward, and he sits at the opposite end of the couch to Spencer, hands in his lap. Spencer's mom makes tea, and they sit in the living room with four cups and none of them say anything.

Spencer makes a face. "Mom -" he says, when the tension is so sharp he thinks he could probably cut it with a knife.

"I don't want to hear it, Spencer," she says, tightly.

Spencer subsides into silence, and stares at the table. If he moves his mug a little, he can feel his wedding ring tap against the china. He does it again, a solid reminder of why he's here.

Brendon's phone keeps buzzing.

"You're popular," Spencer's dad says, after the fifth or the sixth vibrate.

"I guess," Brendon says, biting his lip. He doesn't pick up his phone.

"Who is it?" Spencer asks, grateful to his dad for breaking the uneasy silence.

"Mason," he says, shrugging. "Matt, Kara. Mom must have called them. My cousin."

Spencer sneaks a glance at his mom, and shifts so that he's closer to Brendon. His _husband_ , he thinks, awkwardly. Fuck. "Aren't you going to check the messages?" he asks. Spencer _knows_ that Brendon doesn't want to, that Brendon's been close to the edge all day, that Brendon can't necessarily expect the wholehearted support of his siblings the way that Spencer thinks he can expect from Jackie and Crystal, but he can't stop pushing. Spencer feels a little bad for pushing, but he needs something so that he doesn't have to concentrate on the way his mom keeps staring at his hand. Spencer hates the way her disappointment is written all across her face.

Brendon shrugs, and reaches for his phone. His anxiety isn't very well masked; even without the added awareness Spencer's been party to the last couple of weeks, Brendon is usually very easy to read. He has trouble pretending, and difficulty hiding what it is he's feeling. He scrolls through the messages. "Kara and Mason say congratulations," he says, biting his lip to keep from smiling.

Spencer can't help but let out a long, relieved breath. Things are different now to the way they were when Brendon was seventeen and trying to leave the church. His family are so proud of him, it's almost funny. They usually try very hard not to hold Brendon to the same rigorous standards as they would hold someone who was still in the faith, and Spencer knows that Brendon had been hoping that his parents would react to his marriage in that same way they had his drinking or his pre-marital sex or his coffee habit. Still, it had been a hell of a lot better than it could have been, and Spencer's hoping that giving them time means a matter of days rather than weeks or months. One thing Spencer's sure about is that Brendon's parents love the fuck out of him.

"What about Matt?" Spencer asks.

"The same," Brendon says, and Spencer's pretty sure that Brendon can't help the smile curving across his face. Spencer certainly can't help the answering smile he's trying to hide, or the sudden relief in his stomach at the possibility that things might just be okay in the end.

But Spencer doesn't miss the way Brendon's smile drops as he reads the last text message, or the way Brendon fiddles awkwardly with his phone and drops it down onto the couch next to him.

"What did that last one say?" Spencer asks, shrewdly.

"Nothing important," Brendon says, and Spencer doesn't miss the way Brendon's gaze flicks between Spencer and his parents.

"Yeah," Spencer says, "no. Was it from your cousin?"

"It doesn't matter," Brendon says, quickly. "What he says doesn't matter, okay?"

Spencer rolls his eyes. "Brendon," he says.

Brendon sighs. "Same old, same old, okay? Offense to God, burn in hell, fags repent, blah blah. Nothing new."

Spencer has found that he has very strong opinions on what matters and what doesn't, especially when it comes to where Brendon's concerned. It's something he's been working on for the past few years, but he's found that in the past few weeks, he's honed it to a sharp point. "Yeah," he says, "that's not okay."

Brendon tries to smile, but his eyes are watery. "I guess he's off our Christmas card list, yeah?"

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to punch him in the face," Spencer says, fiercely. He's sure that whatever Brendon's cousin said in his message, it was at least twice as bad as Brendon had suggested. "Give me his address, I'll set fire to his house."

"And me," Spencer's dad says. "I'll go with you, Spence."

Spencer's head flies up to meet his dad's gaze. Spencer's unsurprised to find his own anger echoed in his dad's face.

"Dad -" Spencer manages, past the lump in his throat.

"Nobody speaks to either of you like that," Spencer's dad says, and he points at Brendon. "And it's never okay, alright?"

"Okay," Brendon says, awkwardly. He nods. "But I'm not giving either of you the address."

"Good," Spencer's mom says. "The last thing the two of you need is to start out married life in a jail cell."

"He's an idiot," Spencer says, and he tries not to look at his mom, because it's kind of like the fragile balance in the room has shifted a little since Brendon's text message, and he doesn't want to lose the ground they've just gained. He reaches across for Brendon's hand, awkwardly twining his fingers with Brendon's. When he looks down, he can see Brendon's wedding ring. Brendon's hand is really hot in his, but he doesn't let go. "He's not invited to the wedding party, either."

"Well," Spencer's mom says, squaring her shoulders and producing a packet of chocolate chip cookies. "Of course not."

-

"We're having a wedding party?" Brendon asks, when they finally get away from Spencer's parents' place and back to the airport to catch their flight back home.

They're holding hands in the line at the car rental place, and Spencer is steadfastly ignoring the glances of the other guys in line, and concentrating on what it feels like to just stand here, hand in hand with the person he's _married_ to. "Dude," Spencer says. "If you think either my mom or your mom is going to let this whole thing go by without a party, then I'm pretty sure you're wrong."

Brendon deflates a little, and hums under his breath.

"Hey." Spencer says, tugging Brendon a little closer so he can lean in and say quietly, "Give them time. They'll come around."

"Hope so," Brendon says, dully.

"They will," Spencer says, as the line moves forward and Spencer's left pressed against Brendon's side. "And if they don't, fuck it, we'll throw our own."

"Yeah?" Brendon says, his eyes brightening. Spencer's left wondering if Brendon smiling is meant to make his stomach flip over like that.

"Yeah," Spencer nods, and he doesn't move away, even though there's room enough to the side that they could easily stand an arm's width away from each other and still be in the line. "We'd have, like, balloons and dancing and shit."

"Balloons and dancing and shit?" Brendon repeats, and Spencer can see him trying not to laugh. It's kind of amazing to see, after the day they've had, and Spencer grins back, his skin tingling.

"What more could you want?" Spencer asks, elbowing him and biting back a noise that he's pretty sure is going to sound just like hysterical laughter. "A Journey tribute band?"

Brendon's eyes widen, and Spencer thinks, _fuck_. He's so gone. He'd known he was falling, but this is something else. He's never felt like this before, about _anyone_ , and here he is, feeling it about _Brendon_.

"I'd get you one," Spencer goes on, because he would, he really would, and now he's started talking he just can't stop. He's babbling like an idiot, and he can't stop because he's staring at Brendon and holding his hand and he thinks that he might _actually_ have hearts for eyes, like something in a cartoon. "I'd get you fucking _Journey_ if you asked me to." He'd get Steve Perry back, whatever Brendon wanted.

There's a moment, the briefest moment where everything stands still and Spencer _knows_ he's just laid his heart out on the table, but he doesn't care. Because the way Brendon's looking at him—in _wonder_ —well. Spencer's heart's beating loud in his chest and the noise of the airport and the car rental place has dulled away to nothing.

Brendon says, "Spence," and surges forward, closing the distance between them, wrapping his arms around Spencer's neck. He's shaking, Spencer thinks, but he there isn't time to dwell on it because Brendon's kissing him, right there by the car rental desk, where everyone can see them. Spencer brings his hands up to cup Brendon's face and he's kissing Brendon back, Brendon shifting so that his hands are in Spencer's hair, and Spencer thinks, _this_. Brendon's mouth is kind of addictive; his lips are soft and a little chapped and he tastes like the can of coke he just gulped down before they joined the line. Spencer's left chasing his kisses, wanting more.

Brendon pulls back, gulping down a breath, and Spencer stares at him in amazement. Brendon's cheeks are pink and his hair is kind of mussed but his eyes are bright. He licks his lips, and Spencer can't help but stare. He still feels half-way lost in his own epiphany; around him the noises of the airport are coming back into sharp focus, as are the interested stares of the people around them. Brendon blushes, ducking his head, and for a moment Spencer thinks that Brendon's worried he's done the wrong thing, made the wrong decision, but then Brendon's slipping his hand into Spencer's and meeting Spencer's gaze with a shy smile.

 _Nrgh_ , Spencer thinks, articulately. He's lost in how he feels right now. Of all the places in the world to realize he was in love, the Las Vegas airport was hardly the place he'd choose, and of all the places to act like a stupid dude in love, the line in the car rental place was a pretty shitty choice. He doesn't care, though, because Brendon keeps staring at him. He's wearing the same kind of smile that Spencer thinks is probably reflected on his own face, soft and shy and kind of amazed.

"So now we just have to tell everyone else, right?" Spencer says, easily, even though he feels anything but easy. His heart is thumping. He loves _Brendon_. "I want everyone to know."

Brendon swallows. "Me too," he says, loudly. A middle-aged lady turns around to stare at them for a moment, before turning back to face the front of the line. "Sorry," he says, quieter this time, watching Spencer. "Me too."

Every time Brendon looks at him, Spencer's stomach just _leaps_ , and it's so ridiculous, and so incredible that he feels like he's flying. Brendon clearly feels the same, because they keep sneaking each other these wide-eyed, disbelieving glances.

"So," Brendon says, trying to bite back a smile. "We're telling people, then?"

"Yeah," Spencer says, unable to hold back his own grin. "We sure are. Everyone we fucking know."

"Awesome," Brendon says, decisively.

"Awesome," Spencer echoes, squeezing Brendon's hand, and they stand and wait for the line to start to move.

 

END.


End file.
